hovelful of the old farm, as acre after acre was sifted
over, revealed gems with which to decorate the crowns of emperors and
moguls."

LOVE TAMED THE LION

I would not enter on my list of friends,
(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility), the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
COWPER.

"Nero!" Crushed, baffled, blinded, and, like Samson, shorn of his
strength, prostrate in his cage lay the great tawny monarch of the
forest. Heedless of the curious crowds passing to and fro, he seemed
deaf as well as blind to everything going on around him. Perhaps he was
dreaming of the jungle. Perhaps he was longing to roam the wilds once
more in his native strength. Perhaps memories of a happy past even in
captivity stirred him. Perhaps--But what is this? What change has come
o'er the spirit of his dreams? No one has touched him. Apparently,
nothing has happened to arouse him. Only a woman's voice, soft,
caressing, full of love, has uttered the name, "Nero." But there was
magic in the sound. In an instant the huge animal was on his feet.
Quivering with emotion, he rushed to the side of the cage from whence
the voice proceeded, and threw himself against the bars with such
violence that he fell back half stunned. As he fell he uttered the
peculiar note of welcome with which, in happier days, he was wont to
greet his loved and long-lost mistress.

Touched with the devotion of her dumb friend, Rosa Bonheur--for it was
she who had spoken--released from bondage the faithful animal whom,
years before, she had bought from a keeper who declared him untamable.

"In order to secure the affections of wild animals," said the
great-hearted painter, "you must love them," and by love she had
subdued the ferocious beast whom even the lion-tamers had given up as
hopeless.

When about to travel for two years, it being impossible to take her pet
with her, Mademoiselle Bonheur sold him to the Jardin des Plantes in
Paris, where she found him on her return, totally blind, owing, it is
said, to the ill treatment of the attendant.

Grieved beyond measure at the condition of poor Nero, she had him
removed to her chateau, where everything was done for his comfort that
love could suggest. Often in her leisure moments, when she had laid
aside her painting garb, the artist would have him taken to her studio,
where she would play with and